Mr Hummel
by MDemagogue
Summary: Kurt Hummel reluctantly takes a job teaching at McKinley High.  While there, he has to navigate through many challenges.  Warnings at the start of the first chapter.


A/N: Teacher AU fic that popped into my mind. Sort of inspired by a MA fic I read, but decidedly not smutty at least for now. I reckon though, that it's probably M for language and content. Borrows elements of "Rumours", and "Grilled Cheesus" from Glee and Lost's "Dr. Linus". I own some songs from Glee on my iTunes, and some of the seasons of Lost on DVD. I don't actually own their creative property. I thought about making this a Klaine fic but Sam just, well, was Sam. For the purposes of the story, I've aged Kurt, Finn and Quinn. Sam and Blaine are both seniors at McKinley, Blaine's family is middle class as opposed to the (presumably) wealthy family that is canon.

Lastly, there are potential triggers for domestic violence and character death. I don't condone any of the negative behaviors that occur within.

Mr. Hummel

Chapter 1: Dislocation

KurtPOV

Most people when they think about how their life has ended up, can't really determine when things went wrong. For me, it was March 10, 2006. My father's second wife, Carole Hummel, nee Hudson, was diagnosed with cancer.

I was in New York, at Parsons at the time studying design. The costs of living in New York were stratospheric, coupled with the cost of tuition at Parsons, so I finished up the year there and transferred to OSU. Fighting cancer was an extraordinarily costly proposition, even with health insurance. Columbus was a let down from New York.

OSU didn't have a program that was comparable to Parsons, so I changed majors. My mother was a teacher so I decided to follow in her footsteps and I majored in education and history.

After completing my Bachelor's, I stuck around and finished my MA to make myself a better prospect on the market. While finishing up my MA, Carole lost her battle with Cancer.

The burden of losing a second wife to cancer was enough to send my fathers health spiraling downward. Before marrying Carole, he had suffered a minor heart attack. After Carole passed away, he had a severe "cardiac episode" to quote the cardiologist. He would never admit it, but he needed me. Which is how I found myself taking a job at my old alma mater. William McKinley High School.

My stepbrother Finn, who was a few years older than I was, had finished up his mechanics certification at the community college in Lima and was working in the garage. After my Father's second heart attack, he took over most of the business. I retained my stake in the business. The money from that went to paying for my dad's medical care.

* * *

><p>Things had changed in the intervening years since I had graduated from McKinley High. The biggest change was that the Glee Club was a viable presence at the school. When I was there, it was headed up by Stage 5 Creeper Sandy Ryerson. My skin crawls just thinking about him.<p>

His replacement was not a creeper, and an improvement as far as success of the club went. Will Schuster. I didn't know very much about him, he taught Spanish, which I didn't take when I was at McKinley as a student so our interaction was limited. I distinctly remembered him turning a blind eye to the bullying I went through at McKinley. Since everyone but Sue Sylvester did that, it didn't make him any different.

Both Sue, and Schu were somewhat petty people who guarded their prerogatives with the zeal of Japanese holdouts on Iwo Jima. The way both of them treated the new football coach, Ms. Beiste, was an indication of that. Apparently, they were bitter about some of their funding being redirected to the football program. Naturally, they did their best to be rude to her. Other members of the faculty followed their lead. I didn't.

Their idea of being rude was acting in a manner typical of the students we taught. Most of the teachers, excepting those who monitored the cafeteria took their lunch in the teachers lounge. Naturally, Schu and Sue thought it would be a real classy thing to deny her a seat to eat. I was sitting in the corner of the room, by myself, reading a copy of the Columbus Dispatch. It's not the New York Times, but. . . the letters to the editor are pretty hilarious.

I had heard through the faculty grapevine that they were planning to do this, but it still surprised me. I lowered my newspaper slightly so I could peer out at the unfolding scene. Ms. Beiste asked Sue if she could sit with her. Sue commented that the seats at her table were reserved for her imaginary friends, and Schu said that his seats were reserved. She turned to leave.

I called out, "You can sit over here if you want."

She turned toward the sound of my voice, an expression of disbelief evident on her face. From that expression, I gleaned that this was a familiar experience for her. It probably happened at the other schools she taught at. She was about 6' 3" and built like a brick house and she coached football. For a good many shallow minded individuals, it was a bit much to take in. A small smile stretched across her face as she walked over. I set my paper down, and we exchanged introductions.

We became fast friends. Schu eventually saw the error of his ways, and stopped being as big of a douche. She still sat with me though.

I learned that she was from Missouri, and had taken this job because she liked a challenge. Ken Tanaka had racked up an impressively bad win loss record and she wanted to reverse it. She did, by cutting everyone on the team and forcing them to try out for their old positions. She invited me to the first game, which I went to.

Finn and his wife Quinn were surprised to see me there, and I accepted their invitation to sit with them. Quinn was an up and coming realtor for the area, juggling her career and her 2 year old daughter Beth, along with dealing with Finn.

Finn and I were two very different people. When our parents started dating, I initially resented him. We were in high school together at the time, and he was a junior and I was a sophomore. He was captain of the football team, and Quinn was head cheerleader, of course. He was the son my father always wanted.

I'm fairly certain that he resented me too. His mom, after all, was dating the father of the town fag. When our parents moved in together, I'm sure that some people probably thought he would catch the gay from me.

He grew up, rapidly, after Carole's diagnosis. Once he got out of high school, he figured things out. He learned that it didn't matter what other people did in their own lives as long as it didn't interfere with his own. I didn't have any intention of interfering with his life, so that was that.

We settled in to watch the game. Finn was pleasantly surprised to see the team score early. He was even more impressed to see that they had a defense that could actually do things, like get to the other teams quarterback and sack him. By the half, McKinley was up 28 to 3. The second half was no different. The other team played more carefully, but they couldn't put a dent in our impressive lead. By the end of the game, McKinley had scored 2 more touchdowns and added a couple of late game field goals to pad their lead.

The triumphant McKinley titans hoisted number 6 on their shoulders and made their way off the field. He has his helmet off, and in one hand while waving out to the rest of the crowd. Warm green eyes hold my own in place for a heartbeat before the connection between us is lost. Sam Evans, my student, was, in that moment, a colossus striding amongst us mere mortals. The people in attendance filtered away. Shannon saw me in the stands and announced that I was her good luck charm and that I would have to start attending every game.

* * *

><p>For a few weeks, I was able to keep good on it. McKinley had a good start to its football season. Then, one afternoon in October, my father called my phone during lunch. He was having trouble breathing. I told Principal Ryan of the situation and rushed home to take my father to the hospital. He didn't want an ambulance coming and fussing over him. After waiting around for an interminable amount of time, we finally got to see a doctor.<p>

It was discovered that the new regimen of drugs that he had been put on were problematic for him. They had damaged his lungs, in addition to making his heart condition worse, at least from what the EKG and other monitoring devices could tell him.

They couldn't do anything about the underlying heart issue, but they could put him on oxygen and see how that worked out. They planned on keeping him for observation.

I was in the process of burning off my nervous energy pacing around the hospital when they wheeled another person in. The familiar uniform of the McKinley Titans stood out to me, along with the number 6. The stretcher was followed by two adults who I assumed were his parents. They were accompanied by two tow headed children.

"Is Sammy going to be alright?" The younger one, a girl asked.

His mother reassured her. "Stacy, he'll be fine, they just need to fix his arm."

His father scowled at her. "It's his shoulder they need to fix! He'll be out for weeks with it." He lowered his voice to a low whisper, "We won't get any money from him now."

The lamentable truth was that pay for play athletics were all too common. A quarterback who was as good as Sam could theoretically get, in addition to a scholarship to an NCAA Division I school, well over $100,000 to attend a college, if a college was willing to come to the table. All too often, the college would be willing to do it, usually through a third party, like an alumni booster. After all, a winning team brings in alumni donations, there are ticket sales, merchandising, etc. The athletes don't see any of that money, obviously, and many of them get only the scholarship to play.

"I can see that it's his shoulder, Stan. Why don't you just go home, I'll stay here with the kids and Sam."

"I don't like your attitude Annette." Stan said through gritted teeth.

I decided to politely introduce myself at this point.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. I'm Kurt Hummel, Sam's one of my students. Is he going to be alright?"

Annette looked relieved to see another person, and Stan glared at me.

"What is this shit? Is this the boyfriend or what?"

"Stan!"

If Annette Evans was cheating on her husband, I could see why. Christ.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Evans, that I have no idea what you're talking about. I teach at McKinley. My father happens to be here right now for observation."

Stan leered at me. "Well, Kurt, I'll spell it out for you then. My son is a faggot, I'm sure you know what that means, seeing as you appear to be one too."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I collected myself. Regrettably, this type of ugliness was all too common. "Yes, I am familiar with the term. Small minded people, like yourself, have used that term for a long time. The fact that you would direct it at your son puts you beneath contempt in my eyes."

Stan's eyes sparked. His kids saw that and reflexively hid behind their mother. He ground out, "You think you're better'n me?"

Annette's gaze flickered between both of us. She knew that I wasn't going to deny it, and that was going to set him off. Instead, she placed her hand on his arm. "Stan, leave. Now."

He pushed her away angrily. Alright then.

"Well, since you asked, Mr. Evans, yes, I am better than you."

He swung at me. I let the blow sail over my head as I hit him in the solar plexus with my right fist. That doubled him up and let my left connect with his jaw, knocking him to the floor. Hospital security, naturally chose to intervene after Stan Evans was on the floor.

Annette Evans jaw was on the floor, figuratively speaking. I guess she was judging the book by its cover.

I gave an arch look at the security guard. I recognized him from my high school days here. Azimio Adams. I'm sure he recognized me.

"Well, Mr. Adams, I'm sure you were looking forward to the opposite outcome. I can't prove that, obviously. Judging by your waistline, you probably waddled over here just as rapidly as you could, I'm sure. I'm sure that the staff are calling the cops right now, and the camera that is overhead will certainly attest to the case that Mr. Evans here swung first and that my response was proportionate." I turned to look at Mrs. Evans, "I won't be pressing charges, even though I could. I'd suggest that he cools off overnight in a cell, and that'll be the extent of it."

A couple of cops arrived a few minutes later. I told them what I told Azimio, and they looked at the tape to confirm it. They cuffed him and took him away.

Annette was crying by this point. "I'm sorry for him."

"You apologize for him a lot don't you?"

She nodded her head absentmindedly. I grabbed a box of kleenex off the counter, nothing upsets me more than a crying lady. Well, that's not necessarily true. Some of my students' ideas for what constitutes fashion upset me more. She dabbed at her eyes.

"Well. . .you probably have some paperwork to fill out. There's a soft serve ice cream machine in the cafeteria. I could take these two and leave you to it?" I said, gesturing at the kids, who had come out from hiding. Their smiles at the mention of ice cream made my heart clench a little.

She had pulled herself together quite admirably. "Yes, that would be fine. Sam. . . he thinks very highly of you, Mr. Hummel."

I tried to deflect. "Well, it's always nice to be appreciated."

She shook her head. "I don't know, but he may have misplaced emotions, a school boy crush perhaps. These things do happen."

Failure. "Oh. I've never thought of anything of the sort, obviously. He's my student, and that's that."

She turned her head to look away at something in off down the hallway. "It. . .it's not easy talking to him about it. I don't. . . I don't even know where to start. And you've seen Stan's reaction. He was so angry when he found out about it from his previous school. He put in for a transfer up here from Tennessee. Can he. . . Can Sam?" her question lingered in the air.

I was hesitant to answer her. I didn't want to be a mentor to a young man who could theoretically have formed an attachment in his mind to me. I didn't want to encourage him. But I didn't feel that I could turn her down. I calculated, thinking that as a teenage boy he would be mortified at the prospect of talking to me and would probably avoid me like the plague. "If he ever needs to talk to me, he only needs to ask. I'm going to take these two to get some ice cream."

The kids each grabbed a hand and we made our way down to the cafeteria. The soft serve machine down there didn't have much by way of variety, but they were happy getting a vanilla cone for Stacy and a chocolate cone for Stevie, whose name I found out on the walk down there.

Luckily, all of the children that Stan and Annette Evans had appeared to take after her in disposition. They had seemingly moved past the unpleasantness in the lobby quite easily. I couldn't see any evidence of physical harm to either child, which was a blessing.

After they finished their ice cream, we went back to the lobby, where their mom was waiting. They went to see Sam in the observation room. I went to await Finn's arrival in the lobby.

About 15 minutes later, Sam and his family came out. He was in a sling, and the doctor was giving instructions on how to deal with the recovery to Annette. He saw me, smiled, and tried to wave with his injured shoulder. He winced, and switched over to his good arm before making his way over with Stacy and Stevie.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel. Why're you here?" Sam asked.

"Hi Sam. My father's in the hospital right now. I'm just waiting for my stepbrother to get here."

At this point, Stevie decided to pop in and spill the beans. "Daddy and Mr. Hummel got into an argument."

Sams face fell. "Did he. . . tell you?"

"Yes he did. If you ever need to talk to anyone, you can talk to me. Ok?"

"Yeah. . . yeah that's. . . well, it is what it is." he said awkwardly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

I shifted, uncomfortably in my seat, as he gazed at me. "Well, Sam, I need to get back upstairs and check on my father." I said, beating a hasty retreat.

I went to the elevator, pulling out my phone. The battery had died on me. Fuck. When I got up to the 4th floor it was quiet. That unnerved me more than it should have. I walked towards the room where they had put my father.

Quinn was there with Beth. She saw me, and got up. Her expression was grave.

"Finn's been looking for you. We couldn't reach you on your phone."

"What's happened?"

"Burt had another heart attack. They rushed him into surgery. . . They don't know if he's going to make it."

"When did this happen?"

"We got here about 30 minutes ago. We were in there with him and he started complaining about chest pains and we summoned a nurse in and then the nurse got one of the doctors and he saw something on the monitor that shocked him and things just started happening so fast. . ."

I willed myself to remain calm. Putting up a facade was too easy. "Alright. Call Finn and let him know I'm up here.

I settled in beside Quinn to wait. Finn joined us after a bit, looking out of breath.

"Dude, I was looking all over the place for you. This place is a maze."

"It's ok Finn. My phone died on me. I can wait here and call you from a phone here with an update. You can go home."

"Kurt. No. We're family, and we're staying here together." Finn said decisively, Quinn nodding fiercely.

Part of me wanted to argue, to rage at him. To drive him away so I could be alone. A larger part of me was worn down with worry about Sam Evans, his homophobic father, and his two adorable siblings and their mother. A larger part of me was worried about my father and what this latest bout with heart disease would mean. I wondered if I would have to put him in a retirement home. That would kill him. It would be an admission that he was no longer capable of caring for himself. We were essentially at that point already, but acknowledging it would damage his spirit.

So, we settled in, as a family to wait. Small talk was made about Quinn's job as a realtor, and the interesting people she showed houses to. We talked about the garage and the personalities that came in there to have their vehicles looked over.

Once we had exhausted those topics, we moved on to McKinley. I talked about how Ryerson was out, and that they had a Glee club that was viable. I talked about the petty office politics that led me to having a friend in Coach Beiste.

Eventually, I got around to telling them where I was at in the hospital earlier this evening. I told them about how the quarterback of the football team was one of my students who had came in off the field with a dislocated shoulder. I told them about how his father got worked up into a tirade and tried to attack me. Quinn smiled when I told them what I said to Azimio, and clapped me on the shoulder when I told him that I decked Stan Evans.

While we were talking about all of that, my father was dying on the operating table.


End file.
